The media storm
Before dawn, the storm began.
It did not announce itself with thunder at first, only with the sharp, invasive buzz of Emilia’s phone vibrating against the nightstand. Once. Twice. Then again—relentless, impatient, as though it had been waiting all night for the exact moment when sleep was most fragile. Emilia stirred but did not immediately reach for it. She lay still beneath the thin hotel sheets, eyes open, breath shallow, her pulse already racing as if her body understood what her mind had not yet allowed itself to name.
Bad news always arrived this way—too early, too loud, too certain.
The city beyond the curtains was still wrapped in darkness, rain streaking down the glass in crooked lines. Somewhere far below, a siren wailed and then faded. Emilia swallowed, her
